Physician, Heal Thyself
by soBeautifullyObsessed
Summary: What must it have been like for Stephen Strange to look forward in time at 14,000,605 possible outcomes to the coming battle with Thanos, in defense the Time Stone & all life in our universe? This story explores that question, based on the premise that he experienced those futures as though it were in real time, while in his 'time trance' on Titan. Expect plenty of angst.
1. Chapter 1

_Physician, heal thyself._

This was an axiom nearly as old as the medical profession itself—and as he used the power of the Time Stone to search relentlessly through literally millions of timelines-indeed, as he experienced those countless iterations, revisiting the most promising ones to test and tweak factors great and small, scrutinizing layers upon layers of minutia to glean just what were the most crucial factors toward eventual success—that maxim had gradually insinuated itself in the back of his weary mind. Stephen had ignored it for as long as he could, pushing himself beyond all his previous limitations, exerting a superhuman determination to discover a path to victory over Thanos. Either to prevent the horrific fate which the mad Titan planned to unleash upon the universe—or to discover the remedy, if prevention failed.

After the first three million or so, Stephen realized he was severely drained, both emotionally and spiritually, from witnessing the countless horrific sequences of events; the brutal battles, the gruesome deaths, the repeated destruction on a biblical scale. Friends, associates, strangers alike; the band of heroes gathered on Titan and on Earth to do battle—no one in this most precious reality was immune. He understood that he was losing his edge, for no matter how he drove himself, his intellect alone could not sustain him; soon he would begin to miss important details, details that could be the literal difference between life and death for trillions. Eager as he was to find the answers, he knew he'd have to rest, meditate, recharge his soul, if he was to be fully effective in his quest.

And so it was—reluctant and regretful to find himself forced to do it—that Stephen used the power granted him by the Time Stone, to finally take an hour off…


	2. Chapter 2

The Ancient One: _I've spent so many years peering through time, looking at this exact moment. But I can't see past it. I've prevented countless terrible futures and after each one there's always another, and they all lead here—but never further. _

Stephen Strange: _You think this is where you die…_

_(Doctor Strange, 2016)_

* * *

In witnessing the first few thousand versions of the battle over the Time Stone—both those in which he participated, and those in which he merely observed from the vantage point of a time loop-Stephen established that the decimation which Thanos desired to bring to the universe was far different than conventional death. He observed hundreds of timelines wherein he himself resisted, and fought back using every spell in his arsenal against their Infinity Stone wielding adversary—all of which led inevitably to Strange's true physical death, and Thanos seizing the Time Stone. He would have been fully willing to settle on that outcome, if only he had the assurance that Earth's defenders would yet succeed, denying the megalomaniacal Titan the last Stone,and to eventually overcome him. But just as The Ancient One had never been able to see beyond her own demise following her battle with the Zealot, Kaecilius, Stephen too, was denied the sight of a path to victory beyond his own mortality.

And so, Stephen began to concentrate on those timelines where _he_ would be erased from existence along with half of all life in the universe, exactly as Thanos had promised. He learned two important facts from this seeming exercise in futility: first, though it would mean little to the victims of Thanos' dire plan at the moment of their extinction, it did allow for the possibility of eventually bringing those stolen lives back, post-Thanos; second, it enabled this Master of the Mystic Arts to see well _beyond_ those times in which he met his own corporeal annihilation. This distinction existed by some indecipherable logic, some unknown magic, which he hadn't the time or inclination to investigate—but it was the first true glimmer of hope he'd found, that he might find a way to set this reality right again.

With all of this in mind, and by following his steadfast credo '_do no harm'_, Stephen took great care in selecting the right _when_ to take himself out of the timeline he was studying, so to avoid creating any situation which-by his absence-would bring about even more potential suffering and irretrievable death. He decided to give himself just enough time to meditate and center himself, daring to portal from wherever he found himself, to the solitude of his quarters in the New York Sanctum-thereby avoiding any chance encounter with other sorcerers still in residence there.

At first, he found it a challenge to quiet the drumbeat in his mind of '_gotta get back to it…gotta get back to it now…_', but Stephen drew upon the discipline of half a lifetime of compartmentalizing under the high pressure of his career as a neurosurgeon, and soon enough his brain obeyed his will.

Revitalized from his meditation, he returned to his observations, widening his search to factor in the battle in Wakanda, and in those millions of iterations, seeking to find a way to prevent Thanos from obtaining the Mind Stone. In hundreds of thousands of those times, he witnessed courage and self-sacrifice on an epic scale—filling him with pride at the nobility innate in the human spirit-not only by the well-known heroes of Earth, but by thousands of Wakandan foot soldiers facing enemies outnumbering them by ten to one. And in thousands of other timelines, by the civilian populace who bravely rushed to fill the gaps left as their warriors fell. But no matter how he fine-tuned the course of events, or how he finessed even the subtlest of actions, the result was always the same—Thanos inevitably captured that stone, snapped his fingers, and reduced all life across the cosmos by half.

Exhausted and feeling disheartened, Stephen allowed himself another break, though it took him nearly twice as long this time to achieve the rejuvenation he needed to be effective—but the inexorable loneliness of his solitary quest, the constant frustration of his efforts at every turn, had begun to pale even the countless, merciless torments which Dormammu had inflicted upon him. Still, he carried on—for he was the only one who could.

Sometime around the four million mark, Stephen decided on a different approach; perhaps a _single_ Avenger—or a single Guardian of the Galaxy, as Quill had boasted his people to be—would make the crucial difference. If not an individual, then perhaps some different grouping than those which he had already witnessed play out. And what an illuminating experience that was!

Spending multiple times in each man or woman's company, witnessing close at hand their strengths and weaknesses, learning to trust them in the trials of battle, sometimes clashing where his own personality was like oil and theirs was like water. But ever—**ever**—the common denominator: though they be human or alien to Earth, their bravery and willingness to lay down their own lives for the sake of the life everywhere, astonished him. Stephen felt humbled beyond any experience of his life; humbled and honestly privileged to serve at their sides, and to be witness to deeds that could be legend if _this_ was the timeline wherein Thanos was finally defeated.

This tactic came with an unfortunate and distracting side effect—for in getting to know these individuals better, in developing respect and affection for them, Strange also began to experience the grief that came with their deaths. Grief that held no mercy or respite for him. There was no solace to be had either; for as seemed his lot since that fateful night his world had been destroyed by one thoughtless glance at his cell phone, again he had to bear that burden all alone. At times, he felt as though his heart might break, longing for some comfort, cast as far from home and friendship as one could ever be. This time, when he absented himself from the search, he sought the oblivion of a few hours sleep—employing a sleeping draught, as he knew wouldn't be able to find deep sleep otherwise. Stephen awoke to the blare of his alarm clock, from a fog of bad dreams, and with the bitter taste of failure in his mouth. And still he pressed on.

For the first time, Strange was beginning to realize there were such incalculably infinite possibilities that he could spend a hundred lifetimes of man searching and still be no closer to the answers he needed—and thus he reached an inescapable conclusion. At some point soon, he would have to accept his own uselessness…or try something utterly drastic…or seek the council of the wisest man he knew. In a state of desperation, he needn't think long before making his choice. Finding a way to contact Wong, without disturbing the natural flow of Time, seemed the best that he could do.


End file.
